The Little White Kitten
by Cecelia Moran
Summary: GreecexReader: You found a kitten in a dirty Parisian alley and a helpful Japanese man at a souvenir shop brings you to his Greek friend who takes in stray cats and later you receive a note and flowers from a Frenchman who very well may be stalking you.
1. Part 1

You were taking a stroll on vacation in Paris when you heard feline screeching in an alley. No one else seemed to notice so you went to check, moving gingerly between the trash cans and stacks of old cardboard boxes and other pieces of refuse, old broken bottles and bits of glass along with other unidentifiable objects. The sounds of the cats' brawl increased in volume with every step you took until you could see them. One was rather large, orange and missing one eye and the other was a small white kitten that was limping as it tried to get away from the larger animal, blood matting its dirty fur. Rage grew inside of you at the orange cat and you jumped forward, clapping your hands loudly and wishing you had access to something like canned air that you use to dust off a computer or perhaps a vacuum cleaner, but what you did was enough. The cat growled and disappeared over a high wooden fence. You turned back to the kitten, knowing you would never be able to leave it there.

You crouched down and slowly reached toward it, letting the cat know you had no intention of harming it. After a little hissing and a few little strokes between its ears the kitten allowed herself to be picked up, for a she it was. You cradled her in your arms and made your way out of the alley, looking around for a veterinarian's office or an animal shelter, but this was honestly not the correct section of the city. You started walking, trying to find somewhere to ask.  
On the next street there was what looked like a souvenir shop. You decided it was as good a place as any to ask about such a thing. The bell on the door tinkled as you stepped in and you glanced around. Behind the counter was an enthusiastic looking young man in blue with reddish hair.  
"Good morning!" he cried with a smile, "I'm Feliciano Vargas, can I help you?"  
"I hope so," you said, walking to the counter, "Do you know of somewhere I can take this kitten, I found it in an alley and I couldn't leave it."  
Feliciano gasped as he took in the poor creature, "I'm so sorry, but I don't know of anywhere." Both of your faces fell, but his quickly lit again. "I think my friend, Honda, might know a place! Mr. Kiku!"  
At his call over came an Asian man with short black hair and dark brown eyes. "Is something the matter, Feliciano?" he asked in a quiet, calming voice.  
"You see," you begin, "I found this cat hurt in an alley and I was trying to find a place that would take care of her. Mr. Vargas said he didn't know of anywhere, but he thought you might."  
"Yes, I do, but first, allow me to introduce myself, I am Honda Kiku," he said, offering a hand to shake, which you took.  
" I'm [first and last name]," you said with a half smile.  
"Glad to meet you. The shelter I know isn't far from here, a friend of mine works there, come, I'll show you where it is." He placed a hand on your elbow and started to lead you toward the door, calling behind him, "Ludwig, Lovino, look after Feliciano." You caught only a glimpse of a well groomed and well muscled man with pale blonde hair before you were out the door. On the way you discussed Japanese history, of which you knew almost nothing and he knew almost everything.  
The place you came to didn't even look like an animal shelter, it looked like a normal house. Your knock was answered by a man of average height with messy brown hair, green eyes and an aqua blue tee shirt. "Honda, it is nice to see you again" he said with an accent you couldn't place, "And who is this?"  
"This is [name]," Honda said, nudging you forward.  
"I see you've brought a new addition for me," he said with shining eyes and a smile.  
"Yes, but she's badly hurt," you replied sadly as you looked down at the kitten.  
"Oh my! Please, bring her inside."  
"I must leave now," Honda said, "I hope we meet again during your stay, [name]." You nodded and said goodbye before following his friend into the house.  
"I am Heracles Karpusi, by the way," he said, leading the way down a hall.  
"Heracles? That's Greek, isn't it?" you asked, thinking it odd.  
"It is, I've been spending the last few years in France trying to help the cats here, but there are always more," he sighed, opening the door at the end. The room appeared to be the place where he took the sick and injured, and one would think it was scary to find such a set up in a house, but it wasn't. Heracles wasn't scary in any way shape or form.  
"Well now, let's see about you." You gently gave the cat to him and you couldn't believe how quickly she loved him.  
After about fifteen minutes he announced she would most certainly have to stay a while. "Were you thinking of adopting her?" he asked hopefully.  
"I wish I could," you said, "but I don't live here and the hassle to getting her into the states with me would be too much to ask of her." He nodded. "But please, take special care of her for me."  
You turned to leave, but he stopped you. "[name], I wonder, would you join me tomorrow for coffee?"  
You looked back at him. "Yes. Yes, I would."


	2. Part 2

**A/N:**_ Something mentioned in a review of the last chapter was something I wanted to address, but was unable to in a PM, so it will be done here. I've posted this story on a different website and someone said the same thing about Japan's name. The truth is, it's quite confusing. Not being extremely good with Japanese names I was unable to ascertain which was his given name and which was his surname. If you would forgive me for that fumble and others that will show up in this chapter and perhaps the one that follows I would greatly appreciate it._

You went back to your hotel, oddly excited. You wished it hours later so you could sleep until going to coffee with Heracles, but alas, it was only noon. You roved the city, not noticing you were being followed by a young blonde man with blue eyes. He blended in well, as a native Frenchman should. You passed many a landmark, but you couldn't concentrate on them, your mind was occupied.  
Around five your skipping of lunch caught up with you and you felt a little uneasy, instead of a gnawing emptiness, though that was sometimes the case. You stepped into a comfortable looking cafe. After dinner was eaten you resumed you walk, winding your way back to the hotel and deciding it was a reasonable time to go to bed.  
The early morning sun of summer streaming through the curtains you had neglected to close the night before awoke you at around six a.m. You groaned as you got up to close them, but you did a double take out the window, thinking you saw someone staring up. You didn't see a soul on the street below. You returned to bed, hoping to sleep a while longer, but all efforts were in vain. Instead, you went through every grooming process you knew, avoiding the ones you thought ridiculous. Seeing as it was only a quarter after seven you dug in your suitcase for your iPod and a book, curling up in an arm chair to spend the next few hours reading. You kept glancing at the clock on the wall, unable to help yourself. You knew you shouldn't be so eager to see him again, you met him yesterday and had spent barely an hour in his company!  
A knock suddenly broke the slowly growing silence (you hadn't put the playlist you chose on repeat). You arose from the chair and opened the door to see one of the bellboys holding a large vase of flowers.  
"These came just a few minutes ago for you, Mademoiselle," he said politely, looking at you over the blossoms.  
"Here, I'll take that," You said, relieving him of the burden. You set it down on the table just inside the door and gave him a tip for bringing it up. You closed the door and took the note from between the white roses and sprigs of lavender. The note was addressed to 'Mon Cher' in elegant, loopy script.

_I saw you walking yesterday and I couldn't resist. Look outside._

Tentatively, you walked back to the window and peeked between the curtains to find you were right when you thought someone was looking up at your room. A blonde, blue eyed man you had passed the day before on your way out of the cafe where you ate dinner. Your phone buzzed loudly, lifting you from your frightened reverie. When you had filled out forms for the kitten you found you had given Heracles your cell number and he was texting you now, asking you to meet him at Honda's souvenir shop. You quickly replied that you would be there in about fifteen minutes.  
You almost ran, glancing behind you every so often, expecting to see the man again, but you didn't. You slowed to a walk once the shop came into sight and after you got inside, you felt much better, but that calm was soon interrupted by loud voices coming from farther back. You wound you way around the shelves to see a man who looked like Feliciano arguing with the man you had seen the day before. Feliciano himself was standing a few feet away.  
"Is something wrong?" you asked the distressed Italian.  
"Lovino and Ludwig are arguing again," he said shakily. "I hate it when they do this. Mr. Karpusi asked Mr. Kiku to help him with something and they aren't back yet." You realized you had gotten there a little quicker than you said.  
"What are they arguing about?"  
"They argue about everything," he replied, wringing his hands. You wrapped an arm around his shoulders and led him to the front of the shop where the voices weren't as loud. The bell jingled and you looked up, noticing through the glass front that the sky was growing slowly darker with the promise of a storm.  
"[Name]! You're early," Heracles said, surprised.  
"I guess I am," you said sheepishly.  
"Honda!" Feliciano cried, almost tackling his friend. "I'm so glad you're here! Ludwig and Lovino are arguing and I'm so scared. Please make them stop!"  
Honda patted his back. "Don't worry, I'll have them stop." With that Honda and Felicano went toward the back to quiet the other men.  
You turned back to Heracles to find him looking at you. "To have gotten here before me, you must have run and that was from something, I think."  
You nodded. He offered his hand which you gladly took and the two of you walked out. "Do you mind telling me what it was?" he asked."  
"Well..." you then proceeded to tell him what happened, from seeing him at the cafe to the flowers and the note to finding him staring up at her window. When you described him Heracles shook his head. "It is just like Francis to do something like this."  
"You know him?" you asked, shocked.  
"Yes, and trust me, he's not trying to scare you," he said reassuringly, "He just does this sometimes."  
During coffee the rain began to fall, but you didn't notice since you were totally immersed in your conversation. An hour later the two of you emerged to find the storm raging in earnest. You looked up, sad you had on only a thin sweater over your tank top, you thought it would be sunny today, or that the rain wouldn't be too bad.  
"You're too far from your hotel to walk all the way back there," Heracles remarked.  
"I'll make it," you said stubbornly.  
"Yes, soaked to the bone. Come, my house is closer, you can stay until the rain stops," he insisted. You agreed hesitantly and the two of you made a run for it as the lightning began to strike.


	3. Part 3

_A/N: The stuff in this chapter is the reason I rated the story 'T' and yes, this is the final chapter, but fear not! There is a sequel that I've started on DeviantArt called 'Little White Wedding' that you can go look at there and you can also read my original work. *shameless self-advertising*_

You made it to Heracles's house mostly unscathed, though you'd slipped and fallen on the wet sidewalk at one point, which resulted in scraped knees and hands. He opened the door and all but pulled you inside. You pushed your fingers through your soaking wet hair, hoping you didn't look absolutely terrible and glad you hadn't worn anything white.

"I'm so sorry, [name]," Heracles said quietly, "I hoped going quickly would keep us from getting too wet."

"Oh, it's fine," you replied gently, "I'm super clumsy all the time, I would have tripped a little even if we hadn't run."

"Come on," he said, taking you hand, "Let's find something you can wear waiting for your clothes to dry." The two of you went up the stairs passing a great number of cats on the way. When you arrived on the second floor he asked you to wait and went into one of the rooms. Through the open door you could see a bed that had not been actually made, the sheets and blankets just pulled up and that box on the bedside table, what was that? You were about to look closer when he came back with a white shirt and grey sweat pants that he offered to you a bit sheepishly.

"You can change in there," he said, pointing to the door across the hall. "I'll be downstairs." You nodded, taking the clothes into the room he'd indicated. You peeled off your own outfit and as you pulled the shirt over your head you thought you smelled something like honey and lilies. You left your clothes hanging over a bar that usually carried towels in the connecting bathroom.

Still curious, you crept across the hall to his bedroom to see what was in the box. It was rather ornate, carved with images around the sides and a single word in Greek carved into the lid. You opened it and your eyes went wide. You closed it again shakily and put it back on the table. _Why the hell does Heracles have a box of condoms? He didn't seem like that kind of person!_ you thought almost desperately.

In silent shock you descended the stairs, stepping into the living room to find him carrying out a plate of pastries. You attempted to keep from tripping over the cats lounging on the floor and covering the coffee table, the chair and the sofa.

"Where do they all come from?" you asked incredulously.

"Some are brought to me by friends and the others I pick up myself," he replied, offering you some of the food off the plate. You hesitantly picked up the small item, the layers of filo pastry crumbling under your fingers as you bite into it, tasting the sweet honey and the bitter tinge of dark chocolate with the crunch of walnuts. It was actually delicious.

You swallowed and smiled, then asked, "Is the recipe a secret family thing or can I ask for it?"

He laughed, "You can ask, it's just baklava, every culture has a different variation." You made you way over tho the couch where you saw the kitten you rescued the day before nicely bandaged and sleeping soundly. You perched yourself next to her, but Heracles had no problem picking up the large, lazy looking black cat sitting on the other side of the couch to sit and placing the plate between you. You absently stroked the kitten's fur, clean now, and she woke up just to push her head against your hand.

"She really does seem to like you, Vanille," he commented, coaxing a smaller black cat into his lap.

"Seriously?" you asked skeptically, "You named her vanilla?"

"Well, these are Helena-" he indicated the small black cat in his lap, then each in turn- "Lucy, Rodrigo, Hugo, Jazz, Silvia, Vixen, Sophie… I could go on for hours," he said, smiling. "Most come to me without names, so names they are given."

"I take it you remember all of them?" He blushed a little. You wondered at the box again, or was he faking a rather bashful attitude, or was the box a gift that had contained the items within since it was given to him.

"Is something wrong?" he asked worriedly.

You were a horrible liar. "I saw the box on your nightstand and I was curious so after I changed I went into your bedroom and looked into the box." You took a deep breath and stared down at your hands, refusing to look at him, afraid of what you might see.

Heracles whispered, "I haven't opened that box since before I left Greece." He put two fingers under your chin and gently lifted your face to his. He didn't seem angry. "I'm not offended if that's what you're worried about."

"It's not just that…" you trailed off.

He laughed a little. "I wouldn't do something like that, [name]. I learned a lesson in that field two years ago."

"May I ask what happened two years ago?" you inquired cautiously.

"Yes, it was just the idiocy of a young man who believed himself in love. She was a bit of a player and I was a tool and I let her use me. However, she has a hold left on me."

"I suppose the box didn't do its job?"

"No, it didn't, but it wasn't necessarily me," he said, almost as if he wanted to convince himself, not telling me.

You put a hand on his shoulder. "If that was the kind of person she was, she wasn't worth your time."

He looked up at you, his olive green eyes trusting. Those eyes... Before you could give yourself the chance to doubt you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his. He caught you, winding his hand into your (h/c) hair. When you pulled back he said, "Well, you are certainly worth my time." You smiled, pulling him back.

* * *

That was four years ago. Now you've moved in with Heracles and his cats and you're still learning their names. Francis Bonnefoy has been warned away and Feliciano, Kiku and the others come over a great deal, sometimes bringing more cats. The day you moved in Ludwig brought in a sweet calico and Heracles insisted you name it. Now, Elisabeta follows you everywhere, but she seems continually at odds with the grey tabby, Gilbert and sleeps in the cupboard full of pans. Roderich lounges on the piano, Ivan seems to lord over some of the others and Feliks likes to sleep on the vanity table in the guest room. You and Heracles are defnitely considering getting married, something that was rather finalized when you found an engagement ring in The Box. The Box itself has become a kind of symbol in your relationship.

After you moved in, Heracles removed the condoms and gave it to you with a key to the house inside. Throughout these four years he's left gifts in it for you, letters and other items of value, but it's original meaning has never been forgotten.


End file.
